Lipstick Jungle
by piscespen
Summary: Shameless stealing, prehistoric monsters, lots of running and one very awkward kiss. It's just another day in the life of the Doctor and Donna.


It's the rain that's getting to her, the constant, bucketing rain. The moment they stepped out of the TARDIS it soaked her to the bone, ruining her gown and her shoes, her lovely, lovely shoes. Black leather sling-backs; caked with mud now, they kick up great streaks of mud and sticky foliage onto her gown as she and the Doctor run hand in hand through the coiling trees.

_Rainforest planet_, he'd said. Only when he'd talked about it earlier, it had sounded lovely; lush tropical vegetation, brightly coloured birds singing in the trees, flowers of every shade and variety, gentle spring showers that left jewelled droplets glittering like diamonds in the sun on the leaves.

Then there were the people. _Wonderful. Friendly. Great conversationalists_, the Doctor had said, _well once you got past the incredibly long tongues of course_. They were descended from amphibians. Vibrant green, four-foot-tall frogs that had built gorgeous glass domed cities in the forests. Renowned throughout the known galaxies for their hospitality and fine dining establishments. The perfect place for an elegant night out.

That is it _would_ be Donna supposed, in the right bloody time-period.

"You are unbelievable," she gasps as the Doctor drags her through the rain slicked vegetation.

"Well, I don't like to brag," he says brightly.

"That wasn't a compliment, you idiot!" she cries, and the Doctor visibly winces at her tone. "Only _you_ could do something as stupid as this!"

"So I was a few years off," he meekly protests.

"Try 100 million," she says tartly. "I was expecting cute little emerald green frog people, not prehistoric man-eating alien monsters!"

"They're _mammal_-eating technically."

"Shut up!" she snaps. "You've been traveling around the galaxy in that thing for what, 900 years now, and you _still_ haven't got the hang of driving it?"

"Oi!" he cries. "That _thing_ happens to be a semi-sentient, highly intuitive, extremely sensitive-"

"Blah blah blah. I'll bet you haven't even got a license to drive it."

"You fly a TARDIS by instinct Donna, not with a license."

"Instinct. Ha! Next you'll tell me you stole it out of a car park when you were a teenager."

Donna's eyes narrow at the sudden sheepish look on his face.

"Oh you're kidding me," she breathes.

"In here," the Doctor says curtly, coming to an abrupt halt by a gigantic hollowed out bell shaped tree that's bigger than some houses.

"You'll lead them straight to us," Donna gasps.

"Actually, our running is doing that," he says, leading her into the makeshift shelter.

"You what?"

It isn't exactly dry inside the tree grotto. Water trickles sluggishly down the moss covered walls. It's not the torrent it is outside though, and Donna finds herself breathing a sigh of relief as the Doctor finds a relatively dry patch of earth far back from the opening for them to sit on.

"The thing to remember about your average prehistoric _Barboursaur_ Donna," he begins to explain cheerfully, "is that they've got terrible eyesight. Abysmal really. Blind as bats, although that's a bit of a misnomer actually. Bats don't lack light perception just visual acuity, which is an entirely diff-"

"Doctor," Donna mutters, rolling her eyes.

"They do however," he says, returning to his original train of thought immediately, "have a very highly developed sense of smell. _Barboursaurs_. Not bats. Bats track prey by echo location-"

"Oh will you shut up about bats already!" Donna snaps. "We're being chased by giant venom spewing prehistoric toads and you're prattling on about bats! You've got bats in your head, you bloody mad aleck!"

"Calm down Donna," he says gently.

"Don't tell me to calm down Spaceman!" Donna cries indignantly. "I'm trapped on the planetary equivalent of _Jurassic Park_ with a mad cosmic joyrider! I've earned the right to be upset!"

"Donna," the Doctor says emphatically squeezing her shoulders, "you're sweating."

"We've been running like the clappers through a tropical rainforest!" Donna shrieks back, "of course I'm sweating!"

Despite the rain, the planet is hot and extremely humid. It's like a sauna inside the grotto and Donna can't help feeling as if she and the Doctor are trapped inside a giant terrarium.

"A very highly developed sense of smell remember," the Doctor says urgently. "The more excited you get, the more you sweat and the easier it is for those creatures to track us by following your pheromone trail. So please for both our sakes, try to calm down."

It's the look in his eyes that does it. The fear she can see in them instead of the usual confidence. The fear of his own failure to protect her. His hands drop from her shoulders and just like that, Donna can feel her anger suddenly dissipating like the air rushing out of a balloon.

"Time Lords don't have pheromones I suppose," she murmurs contritely and the Doctor flashes a sudden smile.

"Of course we do," he says gently, "but my body temperature's much lower than yours. The ambient temperature would have to rise considerably to affect me."

Donna nods and takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it, trying to force herself to relax.

"Are we safe here?" she asks, peering suspiciously at the trickling walls, worried that some creature might jump out at them from the shadows.

"For the moment," the Doctor says, his eyes downcast. He fumbles inside his pocket for a second, withdrawing a small foil wrapped pouch about the size of a wet nap, and hands it to her.

"That was a big fat lie wasn't it," Donna says with a wan smile.

She opens the pouch and pulls out an impossibly large and fluffy bath towel, which she immediately begins applying to her wet head while regarding him with an expectant look.

"Sort of, yeah," he admits glumly.

"I'm sorry," Donna says, suddenly very close to tears. "I didn't mean to make things worse. I'm just frightened."

The Doctor lifts his arm and Donna leans into his embrace, his chin perched upon her damp head and his hand gently rubbing her arm as he draws her in close.

"No, _I'm _sorry" he says softly. "This is all my fault."

"Bloody right it is," Donna murmurs wryly and the Doctor grins.

"Oh Donna," he says fondly, "what would I do without you?"

"Knowing you? You'd probably crash that wonky old time machine of yours straight into Cambridge Circus and get run over by a bus."

"She's just a bit eccentric that's all," he says protectively.

"Are we talking about the TARDIS now, or you?"

"Well," he concedes after a moment's thought, "neither one of us is as young as we used to be."

"Did you really steal her?" Donna asks, curious now.

"I suppose that depends on your definition of _stealing_," he says simply.

"To take something without permission or intention of returning it," she says instantly, as if reciting from a dictionary.

"Oh, well, if you're gonna be _picky _about it," he frowns. "Anyway, it isn't as if anyone else wanted her. She'd been decommissioned. Replaced by a newer, flashier model."

"What, like a used car with too much mileage on?" She pauses, "that explains a lot actually."

"Oi!" the Doctor protests. "How would you feel if someone sacked you just because you started going a bit grey at the temples?"

"No, you're right," Donna says, chuckling apologetically. "I'm sorry. So there she was, obsolete-"

"-and lonely."

"-and lonely," Donna nods, "and you being well, _you_, naturally figured the thing to do was steal her."

"I liberated her," the Doctor insists. "She wanted the stars, so I gave them to her."

"You know," Donna says raising a wry eyebrow. "I'm beginning to get the impression that you were the black sheep of your family,"

"You have no idea," he says smiling enigmatically, but doesn't elaborate any further on the subject.

"Worst I ever did was steal a lipstick out of _Debenhams_ once," Donna says mildly.

"Wait shhh," the Doctor says, holding his hand up to silence her. "Did you hear that?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He springs to his feet and cautiously makes his way towards the mouth of the grotto, while Donna slowly rises to her feet and attempts to melt into the shadows behind him.

After a moment she hears it too, deep feral croaking steadily closing in on their location. The _Barboursaur_ pack. It's tracked them down.

"Donna!" the Doctor shouts, rocketing back to her side as the first of the creatures lunges into the grotto behind him. His hand slips into hers and together they flee towards the back of the giant tree.

"I don't suppose this thing's got a back door," Donna gasps.

"It wouldn't matter anyway," the Doctor answers, "we're surrounded."

Donna risks a quick look over her shoulder to find a muddy wart covered creature the size of a _Volkswagen_ loping towards them, a deep gulping growl issuing from its throat. Its mouth is twice as wide as the rest of its head and full of dripping razor sharp tusks. More creatures pour through the grotto entrance behind it, splitting and splintering the wood in their haste to get inside.

"Do something," she whimpers, feeling suddenly faint.

"Already doing it," the Doctor calls breathlessly, "running for my life, thank you very much."

"We always do _that_," Donna cries. "Do something else, something constructive!"

"What do you suggest?"

They abruptly run out of tree and the Doctor veers toward a twist in the trunk that forms a sort of natural alcove at the base. He shoves Donna inside, barely managing to squeeze into the tiny space behind her.

"How should I know?" Donna says, desperately eyeing the gnashing creatures blocking the opening. "Throw salt on them!"

"_Salt_?! the Doctor snaps, crouching awkwardly next to her, "that only works on slugs!"

He flattens himself against the moss covered wall as an impossibly long tongue suddenly snaps past his head, then quickly recoils out of the alcove like a giant sticky pink rubber band.

"What makes you think I'd have salt on me anyway?" he demands, not missing a beat.

"Well, I don't know!" Donna shouts. "You've got everything else on you!"

"Not salt! I don't go round stealing packets of condiments out of restaurant bins do I!"

"How should I know _what_ you do?" Donna cries. "You stole an entire bloody time machine didn't you? For all I know, I'm traveling with a raging kleptomaniac!"

Several more tongues dart in and out of the tiny space, as the _Barboursaurs_ clamour by the entrance, trying to press their way into the alcove. The entire tree is beginning to shake with the weight of their increasing numbers, splintering and cracking at the base as hairline fissures appear along the walls.

"Well, your hands aren't exactly clean either you know," the Doctor yells back, seemingly oblivious to the imminent danger.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Donna demands.

"Stolen any lipsticks lately?"

"Oi! I was twelve," she cries, "and it's hardly the same thing! You don't see many desperate lipstick stealing criminals being profiled on _Crimewatch_ do you?"

The Doctor doesn't answer. He's just sort of crouching there silently staring at her.

"What are you looking at?" Donna demands, self-consciously touching her face. "Have I got something on me? Is there a bug on me?!"

"Lipstick," the Doctor murmurs softly, his eyes moving to her mouth.

"What?"

"Lipstick of course," he repeats gleefully clasping her shoulders. "Oh Donna, you're brilliant!" and without another word he suddenly kisses her.

Donna's eyes go wide, but she's too stunned to pull away. She's briefly aware of the familiar whirring of the sonic screwdriver in her ears before the world seems to slow to a standstill and gradually falls away around her. Eventually the only sensations left are the feel of the Doctor's lips covering her own and the subtle hint of exotic sweetness on her tongue. She closes her eyes, completely lost in the moment, wondering if all of his kisses are as timeless as this. Then the moment passes, the Doctor abruptly breaks contact and the world comes flooding back in one mad rush.

Embarrassed to find themselves inexplicably embracing, they leap apart like two pieces of shrapnel escaping a blast, the Doctor hitting his head on the low hanging arch of the alcove in the process. Flushed and panting, their eyes stray self-consciously to the ground, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere to avoid looking at each other.

However immediate the effect on Donna and the Doctor though, the kiss has a far more profound impact on the _Barboursaurs_. One by one, the gnashing monsters go suddenly still, their flypaper tongues flicking nervously in and out of their dripping mouths as if tasting the air. Then almost as one they turn tail and run, crashing into each other and leaping over one another in their haste to get away.

Donna watches the muddy stampede in openmouthed silence. "Wait," she says finally, after the last of the giant toad creatures is long gone, "what just happened?"

"Pheromones," the Doctor says, rubbing his head, but grinning like a cat.

"I thought you said those things liked them."

"No, I said they were using them to track us, but there are all sorts of pheromones Donna. Like the ones released when I, when we, when you and I-"

"_Kissed?_" Donna hisses in annoyance.

"That. Yeah," the Doctor agrees, awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. "I used the sonic to excite your pheromone molecules, tricking the _Barboursaurs_ into believing that there was another even larger predator nearby by amplifying your scent. Now come on," he says taking her hand and dragging her from the splintered alcove. "Back to the TARDIS before _Godzilla_ shows up and tries to mate with you, or something."

"Wait. Hang on," Donna says, eyeing him suspiciously. "Let me get this straight. Are you telling me, you made me smell like a dinosaur?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. Not like a dinosaur. Not really. Well, yes actually. Sort of. A bit."

"A _dinosaur_?!" she cries, appalled.

The Doctor frowns thoughtfully for a moment. "You do realise I didn't turn you into an _actual_ dinosaur don't you?" he asks curiously.

She merely glares at him in response.

"Not that you wouldn't be a perfectly lovely dinosaur," he adds hastily. "With lovely red scales and beautiful blue-green eyes."

"Yeah, okay, you can stop sucking up now," Donna says flatly, "I'm over it."

"Right. Good then."

"Let's just get out of here," she says. "I'm wet, sticky, and covered in mud. All I want now is a long soak in a hot tub."

"One hot bath coming up," the Doctor says with a grin and Donna can't help but grin back. It's always been impossible for her to stay angry with him for very long.

"I have learned one thing though," she calls out as they begin their winding trek back to the TARDIS through the still bucketing rain.

"Oh, what's that?" the Doctor calls back over his shoulder.

"I'm never mentioning the word lipstick in front of you again!"

~END~


End file.
